


Minor Characters VI: When Your Well Runs Dry

by gelbes_gilatier



Series: Minor Characters [7]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Aftermath, Gen, Psychological Trauma, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 12:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gelbes_gilatier/pseuds/gelbes_gilatier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If SG10 thought things from their last mission would be done with a sleepover and a few pancakes in the morning, they were damn wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, all caught up. That's what I have so far and I that after the frenzy of this week, I can finally get back into writing SG10 because I'm kind of anxious to get them caught up with where I am currently in the _Protect and Survive_ 'verse (which will probably follow in another mass chapter update but I'll wait with it for a couple weeks, seeing as not to strain your alerts like that again). There are, erm, great things ahead of them. Kind of.

**Minor Characters: When Your Well Runs Dry**

" _Tell me, tell me what you gonna do_  
 _When your, when your well runs dry_  
 _What you gonna do, when your, when your well runs dry?_  
 _What you gonna do when your well runs dry_  
 _I'd like to know_  
 _What you gonna do when your well runs dry?"_

_Eric Clapton, "Till Your Well Runs Dry"_

**One**

_Moore_

Alright, I can do this. I can walk up to Landry's office, knock on the door and tell him never to fuck with my team ever again or I will end him. I once hit on a female fellow USAFA cadet and dissed the Black Knights, _right in front of her older West Point cadet sister_ , who by the way, was a member of the judo team and a National Collegiate Champion two years running. Telling my boss not to screw around with my team should be a fucking piece of cake to me.

So… oh shit, General right ahead and no way to duck into another hall… wait. That's my chance. We're alone and not more than a couple yards away from his office. I need to act _now_. Alright. Fine. Wait a moment, wait a moment… _go_. "Excuse me, sir, might I have a word with you?"

Awesome timing, if I may say so myself. He was about to walk by with a short nod and I caught him right in that moment when he couldn't pretend he didn't hear me. "Of course, Major. What can I do for you?"

Nuh-uh, you won't get off so easily, sir. I school my face into a carefully worried expression. "I'd rather not have this conversation in a hall way, sir."

Just as planned, it gets him thinking enough that he pauses for a moment, then clears his throat. "...alright. Why don't we go back to my office?"

 _Good_ boy. I resist the temptation of patting him on the head for playing along so well. "Gladly, sir."

Landry turns around and I tag along for the short walk back to his office, telling myself there's a good reason that I'm doing this and that I have airtight arguments for what I'm about to throw at him. I nearly crashed the entire SGC server network to get confirmation for the suspicions I'd been holding ever since I went through those e-mails Dee received from Noruega and his ex-employers, after all. So I have damn good reasons for being here. And for making Landry listen to me.

Anyway… we're in his office now and he's looking expectantly at me. "So... what did you want to talk to me about?"

Alright. Let's get ourselves in trouble, head on. "Sergeant DeLisle, sir."

Landry's only reaction is a raised eyebrow indicating _very_ mild interest. Just you wait. "Is the Sergeant giving you trouble?"

You mean aside from the fact that I'm pretty sure that he's been going through hell for roughly a week now? "No, sir."

"What else would you like to talk to me about, then?" Very mild interest just got replaced by starting annoyance. Good.

"His temporary absence, sir." Come on, boy, don't give me that whole clueless attitude. You didn't become head of one of the US military's most secret installations for nothing.

"Major... will I get to hear more than just one-liners from you?" Ah, finally we're getting somewhere. "Because my patience is starting to wane." No really? Then I'm sure you'll understand how _my_ patience practically _exploded_ when I had all my puzzle pieces together. "You and your team strained it already a lot during last week. Do get to the point, and fast."

I'd like nothing better, sir. "Yes, sir. Supplementary research to last week's mission points to the fact that Sergeant DeLisle's unauthorized absence was, in fact, authorized." Among others by you, no less. Under duress – or at least that's what the meta data that I decrypted yesterday says – granted. I'm still really, really pissed, though. "But not by me, sir, neither did I know it was." Or I'd probably have made sure that a couple heads at Homeworld Security would role for a few unsavory things I discovered on the way. And here we're going with the trouble part. "I'd just like to say that if anyone _ever_ again thinks they can make decisions about my team over my head, they're going to regret it. And that includes _everyone_."

Silence. Dead silence. Oh yes, you know _very_ well what I'm talking about. And I thought O'Neill warned you about that idiot officer who wouldn't stop at nothing, not even staff grade officers, if he thought someone was messing with his team. Obviously, O'Neill couldn't stand you if he didn't.

"Try not to forget yourself, Major." Oooh, someone's really pissed about having been called out on one of his less than stellar decisions.

Alright, let's piss him off a little more. "I just wanted to state a fact, sir, and take it to you for consideration."

I can see that he's burning to throw me out of his office, but knows that he has nothing he can use against, at least not today. He can't punish any of us for being AWOL since he sanctioned Dee's absence because _someone_ at the Agency put a lot of pressure on him and he signed Dee's mission off and he sanctioned _our_ absence because his personal Corporal owed my Lieutenant a favor and my Lieutenant is a secret badass grifter. He can't even throw me out for being disrespectful because I didn't attack him personally.

And to think Laura wanted to tie me up at home so I wouldn't go and ruin my career over a few unconfirmed rumors. Pffft.

Landry seems to have realized that there's no way he can get back at me and there's a certain resignation in his voice when he says, "Duly noted, Major."

Yeah, you better. "Thank you, sir."

He nods and makes a gesture in the direction of the door behind me. "Dismissed, Major."

Righty-o. I tip my head in a salute just about formal enough not to get literally booted out of the office after all and turn around.

Phew. So, that went… alright? Okay, at least according to Laura's gloom and doom prophecies, it went _spectacular_. According to her, it was supposed to end my career in a blaze of glory, including being thrown out of the office by Landry's own hands and receiving a magnificent yelling on top of it. She'll be so very disappointed that it didn't happen that I'm almost tempted to exaggerate my exit, just to keep her off my back.

Anyway, where to… "Hey, Tom." Oh just great. Look who's back from vacation. Evan fucking Lorne. "Anything interesting happened while I… whoa, nice shiner you got there." Yes, of course he'd have to comment on that. Just like basically _everyone_ I ran into ever since Kid had a case of the Rambos. "How'd you acquire that one?"

I resist a dramatic sigh. "None of your business."

"Ran into a door?" Fuck your fucking grin and your fucking smugness, you fucking bastard. "Or was it a fist?"

"Absolutely and totally _irrelevant_." Ah, shit. As soon as I said that I realize the trap I just ran into full force.

Stupid grinning motherfucker. "Wait a moment. Was it your little Lieutenant?"

Just one more word and I'll have to deck him so hard he'll have to spend his first week back on the job in the fucking infirmary. "She's _not_ my Lieutenant."

"I can't believe you let that girl beat you up." _Jesus_ fucking Christ. How did he just manage to catch me like that _twice_?

This time, I _can't_ resist the longsuffering sigh. I've been heaving those with alarming frequency in the last couple of days. "It was one single punch."

He raises his eyebrows and makes a silent whistling motion with his mouth. Fuck you. "If it was, it was pretty well aimed. Gotta give her credit for that, at least."

Ass. Maybe I can rescue this situation, though. "Yeah, and guess who taught her that."

He makes a show of thinking really hard and then… "Your Sergeant? Laura?" Of _course_ he'd say that. And the worst thing? He's probably right. I _wasn't_ the one in charge of her practical unarmed combat training. Dee was.

That doesn't mean I have to accept Lorne's bullshitting, though. "Asshole."

Okay, that probably wasn't really imaginative. "My pleasure." Yeah, I guess I deserved that. "Anyway… _did_ anything interesting happened while I was gone?"

Contrary to public opinion, I am able to spot an attempt at serious conversation when I see one, even if it comes in the kind of casual voice that Lorne just used. I try to keep the same tone up. We're still in a public hallways in the SGC, after all. "My Sergeant went AWOL because his past came back to bite him in the ass."

That's as much as Lorne will ever hear about it and from the look of it, he knows that. "Got him back?"

I've known him for thirteen years now and that's probably how I know that behind that laid-back, almost uninterested tone, there's real interest and maybe a bit of worry, too because that's just what Lorne does. Worrying about his friends, fellow soldiers, subordinates… you name it. When he arrives at those places he's going – and he definitely is, much more than I am – he's gonna have a hell of a time not to lose his head over his worrying one day. I nod. "Sure did."

He grins. _What_? "You would've never gotten over your stupid pride without your girls, would you?"

See, and _this_ is one of the absolute disadvantages of working with people who've known you for thirteen years and seen you at your absolute _worst_ in anything from hangovers after "Single Retreat" weekends at the Academy to nearly getting killed due to a stupid pilot error in flight school. They just know you too fucking well. "Just shut up."

"I'm just saying." Not well enough to just do what you ask of them, though.

Goddammit. "And _I_ said shut _up_."

He doesn't even have the decency to flinch at my death glare, just shrugs and says, "Sure," which just proves that he doesn't have any intention to shut up anytime soon. "By the way, you still owe me that barbecue."

Right. Uh-huh. Sure. "If I remember it correctly, _you_ owe _my_ team one."

At that, Lorne just grins. He totally _knew_ that and actually thought I'd fall for one of his diversions a _third_ time. _Why_ am I friends with this guy? "How lucky that I had one planned for tonight. Consider yourself and your team invited." Oh, right, because he's such a goody-two-shoes.

Alright, least I can do is play along. He did just invite us to free food tonight. "You're being too kind."

"I invited Lieutenant Forsberg as well." I just can't… I… the _bastard_. Stupid fucking Forsberg who had the _audacity_ to ask out one of _my_ teammates, _multiple times_.

Another death glare, and this time I wish looks could kill. "I take everything back. You really are an asshole."

"Now why would you call me that… _twice_?" Seriously? He's trying for innocent? _Seriously_? Fucking bastard knows very well how much I do _not_ approve of Forsberg anywhere near my Lieutenant in a fifty mile radius if it can be helped.

"Just... cause." The _nerve_ the guy has. One day, I _will_ get to deck him for purposely… "Come on, I got a couple really great steaks and a crate of imported Pilsner you're gonna love." Damn, I hate it that my friends know me well enough to be able to create the perfect lure for something I know I'll probably regret.

Ah, whatever. "Yeah, fine. But please remind Forsberg that I will instill the holy fear of God in him if he so much as looks the wrong way at Reece."

He rolls his eyes. "I will do no such thing." Damn decent officers. They're never up for a bit of healthy threatening of their subordinates. "And _you_ will do no such thing, either." Yeah, right, _make_ … "But you may glare at him for about two seconds."

Oh fine. "Whatever. See you tonight. Gotta instill the fear of God in _someone_ , if I'm not allowed to do it to the rightful recipient."

That just makes him snort and again I wonder why we're friends. "Would you like me to schedule an inter-team unarmed combat session so you can take it out on him when he can actually defend himself?" Oh, right. _That's_ why I'm still friends with him.

"Yeah, well, _if_ he can defend himself." Oh come on, don't get all huffed up again. "Anyway… I'll tell the team they're invited. See you tonight?"

He nods and turns to go, probably to gently introduce Forsberg to the fact that he'll have the crap beaten out of him next time he enters the workout room – okay, if Laura and Lorne don't manage to step in first – and says, "Sure. Have fun doing that instilling the fear of God thing."

And with that he's gone and I… well, I'm left to call Laura and tell her how my meeting with Landry went. In which _she_ will probably instill the fucking fear of God in _me_. But dammit, it was worth it. _No one_ will ever mess with _my team_ again. Not if I can prevent them from it, and I goddamn will.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, guys, new chapter! It took a little longer because it was a bit difficult to write, seeing as Dee isn't the most forthcoming of characters when it's about mental issues but we managed to agree on something like a compromise in the end, so I hope you like it :)

**Two**

_DeLisle_

I'm pretty sure one of us was supposed to hang around in the hallways around Landry's office in an inconspicuous manner to intercept the Major and keep him from blowing up his career for a rather petty message to the guy with two stars on his shoulder that would probably only take that message, shred it and shove it back down the Major's throat. I really think we were supposed to do that.

So _why_ is this hallway empty and where… "If you're looking for Major Moore, I just got him when he left Landry's office." Oh _great_. Just fucking… "Uh, Sergeant? Is there a problem?"

I clear my throat for Major Lorne's benefit. "No, sir, no problem."

He does that little clenching his jaw thing that they all like to do when officers know you're lying at them but know that they can't openly call you out on it. Then, "Let me guess: he wasn't supposed to talk to General Landry?"

Damn officers who are too smart for themselves. Or maybe he just has known the Major for too long. Either way… I resist rolling my eyes. "I can neither confirm nor deny that, sir."

"Very funny, Sergeant." Typical dead pan Lorne look now and I've definitely been here too long if I can attribute which looks are typical for officers not on my team and which aren't. "You know… whatever the reason he wasn't supposed to do that, I'm sure you were right with trying to prevent him from it." Yep, definitely has known the Major for too long for his own good. "And if you'd have clued me in, I'd have done my best to assist you."

Huh. Okay… "And we'd have appreciated it, sir."

That makes him grin in a sort of resigned or maybe knowing way, saying, "Next time, don't hesitate to count me in for a little Moore watching." Okay, that's _not_ what I expected but then again… sometimes I do tend to underestimate people. "Anyway, in case he forgets: you're all invited to that barbecue I still owe Major Moore and the rest of you for tonight. Remind him if he…"

"Oh God, please tell me I didn't miss him." And that would be Lieutenant Reece, slightly late for the schedule we didn't actually work out and agree on but probably might have thought of.

Also, Major Lorne seems to find this highly amusing for some reason. This isn't funny, sir. "As a matter of fact, you just did, Lieutenant." And with that he leaves, actually patting her shoulder when passing her and cheerfully telling us, "Better luck next time, guys. See you tonight at my place," over his shoulder before hurrying away. I'm pretty sure I just heard him chuckle under his breath.

Reece doesn't look amused, either.

"Uh, is there something I should know?" Huh? "What's with the see you at my place thing, Dee? You know something I don't?"

Oh, yeah, right. "Actually, yes, ma'am. Seems Major Lorne decided to cash in on that barbecue he's been owning us for a couple months."

She frowns for a moment and doesn't look too happy about the implications of that invitation. "You think he invited his team, too?"

For a moment, I wonder where that question just came from. Then I remember that she used to date one of Lorne's team members for a few months. "He didn't say so directly, ma'am. I don't mean to pry but…"

Another frown. "I'm not sure what you mean, Dee…" but then she seems to have realized that I was about to ask her if there was any bad blood between Forsberg and her that she didn't tell us about. "Oh, if this is about Peter and me stopping the dating thing, no, oh no, that's not gonna be an issue. We parted on friendly terms."

Damn, I can't believe I actually started to slip into a kind of big brother protectiveness for a moment. I clear my throat. "Well, that's good to hear. I just… you know."

For some reason, that actually makes her grin and she shakes her head again. "It's okay, really. I'm just worried for Lieutenant Forsberg's safety when the Major's around."

I raise my eyebrow. "You really think he still hasn't forgiven Forsberg for having the nerve to ask you out?"

She sighs and rolls her eyes. "I _know_ that he hasn't. When you were AWOL…" What? What when I was AWOL? "Never mind. I uh… I was looking for you, actually."

You were? And what when I was AWOL? Why do you all stop yourselves when talk comes up about that damn AWOL thing? "What did I do now, ma'am?"

She grimaces, not unlike Laura when the Major made a particularly bad joke. "Very funny, Sergeant."

I can't help but grin. "I must be. You're the second officer to tell me that today."

She rolls her eyes again and I'm starting to get the feeling that it's time to call her by her first name. "Okay, now that you're done with trying to mess with me…" Whoa there, Lieutenant… right. There's that blush again when she thinks she went too far. Seriously, for a moment, I thought she was under some strange alien influence or something. "Anyway, I was wondering… if it would be possible for you to teach me some of those bread crumb trails you left for the Major up on that mountain?"

Alright, I did not expect _that_. Actually, I don't really know what I was expecting but it sure as hell wasn't that. I blink. "I, uh… of course. I guess."

I _know_ that the first thing she wants to do is raise her eyebrow Major style and ask "You _guess_?" but what she actually does is give me a little grin and say, "Great. So, uh…"

Oh, _okay_. I sigh soundlessly. "Do you have to be anywhere important right now?"

It makes her stop and actually takes her a moment to realize what I just offered. When it registers, she _definitely_ looks like _she_ didn't expect me to take on that training right now. To her credit, she manages to recover pretty fast. "Now that the Major probably ruined his career… no. You?"

I probably deserved that. "No, ma'am. You want to go take anything with you?"

"No, I'm all set," she says and gives me a confident little smile, as if saying "Look, I actually kept all that shit about being always prepared and everything!" and I can't help nod approvingly. She didn't bring her tac vest but I'm pretty sure she's got everything we told her to have ready in her available pockets.

"Alright, let's go." Looking a little… _bouncy_? Yeah, she definitely has a kind of weird spring to her step. Excited, sure, expectant, totally… and… _nervous_? Well. I nod at her and start walking towards the elevators. As we make our way upwards, we both remove our team and unit patches independently from each other and again, I realize how far she's come from the quiet little Lieutenant they pushed at the Major.

She still has her insecure moments – hell, who doesn't? – and she's still a pretty open book but a lot of the things we taught her in an exhausting amount of hours is second nature to her now. Also, probably much more important, she managed to keep that stubborn streak of hers and that subtle sarcasm she shows in the least expected moments. She doesn't let the Major intimidate her as often as she did when she started out in the team and sometimes, she even manages to get back at him… sometimes even not exactly subtle. I'm still a little bit in awe of that black eye she managed to plant on him.

So… we're on the surface now and what amazes me is that she doesn't even bat an eyelash when I direct her away from the security post, into the shrubbery covering the Mountain up here. I'm about to comment on it before I remember that the Major likes to grumble about her not giving up that damn hiding spot of hers up on the Mountain now and then. I didn't really believe it until now but apparently, she really does have that spot. Huh.

"Okay," she says when I stop at a spot far away enough from the entry gates that the SFs probably won't notice us right away, "start imparting your wisdom on me, Obi-Wan."

Damn, I really didn't want to grin but I just couldn't help it. "Not only Harry Potter, but also Star Wars. I'm impressed, Lieutenant."

At that, she only rolls her eyes, probably barely refraining from telling me how very funny that was yet again. "In my head, I'm a merrily bubbling well of pop culture allusions. Now… can we get to work?"

Been around the Major too long, Lieutenant? "Yes, ma'am. If you would kindly lend me your ears…" She rolls her eyes again but crouches down next to me and I pull a piece of string out of pocket. One of those still left over from that AWOL thing… no, better not think about that now. I blink away the memories that threaten to come up at looking at a stupid piece of string. "Okay, first lesson: knots."

As I explain to her the complicated set of knots the Major and I developed over the years, she listens very intently and again, I'm amazed at how well she's able to absorb everything you tell her. I'm pretty sure she'll have forgotten half of the knots I'm showing her by tomorrow but I have every faith in her linguistic abilities to be perfectly able to string together a couple helpful sentences with the knowledge she manages to retain. And if she keeps tying those as well as she is right now, she'll probably be able to write Ancient poetry with them in a couple of months. She's scary that way.

I keep watching her and correcting her and for a moment, her hands look like Tali's, even though they don't even share the same tone of skin. Where Reece's is milky white and covered in freckles, Tali's was a wonderful milk coffee brown, like a latte macchiato with a little bit too much espresso. She was Latina right down to her toes. Jet black hair, whiskey-colored eyes…

"Dee?" What? Huh? "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, I… of course. I…" She frowns. You know, sometimes I do agree with the Major about those damn linguists, especially when they see right through your stupid lies because they can read body language just as well as Ancient texts.

"You looked like you just saw ghost." I blink, realizing that my hands are actually shaking.

In the stupid hope that she hasn't noticed that yet, I clench them together and put on a brave front. "I'm fine, don't worry." And now, as a last resort survival measure, for something completely different. "Okay, so… you're doing really great, although I'd suggest you keep working on your A. Unless you actually _intend_ to tell the Major that he's a "big stupid oef", that is."

Oh good God, I'm having a real hard time here not to snort with amusement at the beet red blush covering her face. She must have been tying those knots subconsciously and apparently, her hands betray her just like mine betray me. But, okay, I guess I'll have to exercise mercy here. "Anyway, just… keep practicing." She does look a little bit relieved that I don't get further into this and I have to say that it is a great achievement on the field of self-restraint on my part. There actually is a part inside of me that desperately wants to know why the hell the Major let her sleep in his bedroom. "Alright… what do you want to see next?"

She scrunches her nose and I'm pretty sure the Major would have a minor turn-on issue now. I just won't get deeper into how I could possibly know this but seriously, he's just as an open book as she is in that regard. "That thing with the pine needles." Huh, what? "Up on that mountain, the Major stopped several times to mess around with a couple pine needles on the ground and after that, he'd point in another direction."

Ah, right, yeah, _that_.

I clear my throat and gesture for her to follow me over to a cluster of conifers. I crouch down next to her and start roaming around in a little pile of needles. "The trick is," yes, the pontificating tone is on purpose, "to make it look random."

"That's what I figured, yes." Hey, are you getting cheeky, Lieutenant?

I look at her and I'm afraid I'm giving her one of those Major looks. Her only response is trying very hard not to giggle and again I'm wondering how long it'll still be until she reacts the same to that look on the Major's face. "Alright, it's a little bit more complicated than the knotting but a better fit when you're out of knotting material."

Her face says "No, really?" and I decide to ignore it, instead concentrating on showing her the patterns I worked through with the Major. And Tali, before I quit the Agency. She used to make fun of my style, saying I was too neat to make it ever look completely random and I remember telling her in return that half the time I had no idea what her messages were about. Her reply had always, _always_ been something like "Pity, Sy. You were missing out on a lot of unprofessional fun."

 _God_ , Tali, I… "Dee? Dee, are you okay?" What? I…

"Yeah, sure." It's an automatic response, perfected in years and years of military service and of course she isn't buying it.

"I don't think so." I wouldn't either, if I were her. My hands are shaking again, so bad that the message I tried to create with pine needles, pine cones and a few little stones looks like something akin to a really frustrated keyboard smash. "Dee… I'm going to ask you what the hell is going on with you now and you're going to tell me _exactly_ why you're white as a sheet and making a mess of everything."

There's something in her tone that makes it nearly impossible to resist her. It's soft and gentle and everything you'd expect from her and then there's a certain kind of steel to it underneath that you wouldn't have expected of her when she was new to the team. Damn those women Marines. "Yes, ma'am."

"Seriously, Dee… what the hell is going on with you? You're… you're scaring the living daylight out of me." To be honest… I'm scaring the living daylight out of myself.

I swallow and sit down on the ground, my hands around my knees. The ground is damp and cool, winter not fully gone around here but I'm already back on Knight's Peak on that dry, sunny spring evening about a week ago. I hear her approach from behind, a lot clearer than I actually heard her on that day, gravel and dry grass crunching beneath her boots. She's nervous, maybe desperate and it's shining through clearly when she tells me _You really are off your game, aren't you, Sy?_

I hear our entire conversation, word for word, as if someone recorded it and plays it back to me now. It's not a flashback per se, because I know very well that I'm somewhere else right now, that I'm not actually _there_ but I keep hearing her saying _You're no less of what you used to be as I am_ , hearing her telling me that I'm still the same kind of killer that I was when we were on the same team and I keep wondering… if she isn't right.

"Dee?"

I blink but don't shake my head. "There was something she said to me before I shot her."

I'm waiting for her to tell me to let it go or don't do it to myself but all she does is nod and sit down next to me. "What was it?"

It takes me off-guard for a moment that she'd ask that and maybe that's why I don't hold back and tell her, "She… basically she told me that we're still the… the same kind of people. The same kind of… killer."

"What do _you_ think?" Of course she'd ask that. It's what I'm constantly asking myself.

I don't have an answer ready and all I can do is look at her and hope that the image of Tali's dead eyes and the blood trickling down her forehead in my mind will disappear anytime soon. I shake my head. "I don't know what to think, ma'am."

For a moment, I expect her to correct me, thinking that this conversation just got too personal for ranks but she just nods and looks like she's contemplating something. Then, after a few minutes of deep concentration, she says, "I nearly quit after that brainwashing mission." It's not that I didn't know that. It's not surprising, either. I just have no idea… "I didn't do it because I thought I couldn't cut it, not the second time, at least." Second… "It was after that survival drill. I seriously considered resigning my commission because I thought I couldn't bear with ever killing another being in my life."

Okay, I didn't know _that_ and I wonder if Laura or the Major know about this. Probably not, judging by the way she's avoiding my gaze. "Then why didn't you?"

She takes her time again and finally comes up with, "I thought about it, really hard. I spoke about it with my therapist. And I came to the conclusion that even despite everything, I couldn't imagine myself doing anything else than what I'm doing now ever again." The funny thing is: I can't, either. I'm pretty sure the Major is still having doubts but I've been watching her and listening to her and for some reason, I just can't imagine her sitting on a desk, day in, day out and translate intercepted Russian communiqués. Not anymore. "So I decided to stay. And make sure that if I kill, it better be for a damn good reason. It better be for something the Marine Corps stands for: fighting for those who can't fight for themselves."

I nod. That's why I joined up as soon as I was old enough to do so. One of my foster fathers – my last one – came from a long line of enlisted personnel and used to take me to his father's Arlington grave whenever when we were in the DC area. We just stood there and he'd put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. He never said anything, but two of his brothers were serving in the Air Force and I guess being someone who didn't even know his biological parents' names, I just wanted _some_ connection to a family that was nice enough to share their home with me and not demanding anything in return aside from good table manners and helping out with their farm and the house. They're the only family I still sometimes write to or visit maybe once a year.

I stare ahead, seeing all those years I already spent in the Air Force. Basic training, special forces combat training, tech school, promotion board after promotion board, transferring to the CIA, working with Tali, meeting the Major, coming to the SGC… hundreds of faces and names, fellow soldiers lost, friends found, enemies killed. I have blood on my hands and it's not all just the bad guys'. I _know_ that once or twice, a direct or indirect consequence of my actions in the field was the death of innocents and I can assure you that not a day goes by that I don't spend wondering when it will happen again.

And that's probably the only difference between Tali and me that there is.

"Dee?" I look up at her. "Usually, this is the moment where I'm supposed to tell you that you're a good person and I really think you are but I know you wouldn't believe me anyway. I know that because I've been there, too." It's not something easy to believe. Because if there's only one good person on this entire planet, it must be Maureen Reece. But then again… "And you know what helped?" Alcohol? "Therapy."

Aw come on. "Ma'am…"

"I know, I know, big scary guy who was killing people for his country long before I was even born, et cetera, et cetera." Yeah, sure, roll your eyes. It's not like that is the actual truth or anything, Miss Still Wet Behind Her Ears Lieutenant. "Dee… I'm not ordering you to and I sure as hell am not stupid enough to even contemplate to try. But I will tell you, as your _friend_ , that as big and scary as you are, you can't solve this on your own." If I were the Major now, I'd probably tell her to watch me try, but as it is, I'm just not. "I don't even really care if you try therapy or just let _us_ help you or whoever else you want to help you. I'm just saying that trying to solve this all on your own will end in disaster."

It's funny, you know. If our roles were reversed, I'd have given her the exact same speech and I'd known that I was right. And here I'm still sitting around and feeling almost physically unable to accept that she's _right_. "I just…"

"Just think about it, Dee. Take your time. But don't wait too long. Things like that… they have an ugly tendency to come back and bite you in the ass in the most inopportune moments." Right. She knows what she's talking about.

I'm about to tell her that I know that she's right but there's a discreet vibration telling me that I just received a text message. Frowning – and kind of grateful for the interruption – I give her an apologetic look and take out my mobile. So…

_Such a nice and sunny day, so I decided to dust off my bike license and rent a friend for the Beemer. You coming or what?_

Uh. That does come a bit as a surprise, to be honest. Actually, I didn't even know Laura possesses a bike driving license. "Uh, I…"

"Laura?" _Dammit_. "Sorry, it was kind of obvious." Damn you, linguists. "Come on, go ahead, I don't mind being left out in the rain."

"Look, it's not what you think…" She grins. Dammit, she _actually grins_. Little vixen.

"How do you know I'm thinking anything? Just be, you know, careful." Careful? _Careful_? "Good God, Dee, just fuck off, will you?"

Right. It's not that I don't want to. Actually, I want to very, very much. It really _is_ a nice sunny, dry day, perfect for taking out the Beemer on her first out of town ride this year and I have to admit that I'd rather accompany Laura and make sure she doesn't do something stupid than sit here and keep contemplating fucking therapy. I make a face. "Are you gonna be okay here?"

She rolls her eyes. "I'll be fine, don't worry. Go."

Oh, _okay_. "Yes, ma'am." After a smart salute, I get up and… wait. I turn around again. "And Maureen… thank you. I just, uh…"

"You're welcome, Dee. Anytime." She looks up at me, a serene little smile on her face and I realize that I just called her by her first name. Well… it is well-earned, I guess and I just can't help smiling back.

"Just promise me to make sure the SFs don't find you." She rolls her eyes again.

"Cross my heart and hope to die. Now, _fuck off_." Whoa, _okay_. After throwing her one last warning glance, I finally turn around and make my way down, texting Laura to meet me at the entrance gate of the Mountain. After that conversation, I damn well deserve a little joyride. I can still think about what it all meant tomorrow. Now… Laura and the Beemer. And no, it's _not_ a date.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, yes. I haven't abandoned SG10 yet. And here's my proof! \o/
> 
> Also, a great thank you to **nacho_moewe** for her willingness to help with anything motorcycle related!

** Three **

 

_Greenspan_

It’s probably a bad idea.

No, actually I’m _sure_ that it’s one of the worst ideas I ever had. Renting a motor bike and pulling our team NCO into a joyride outside of Colorado Springs _might_ have sounded like a _great_ idea at the time but now that I’m actually standing in front of the Mountain gate, I keep hearing Tom telling me not to go and break said team NCO’s heart.

Which, of course, a simple drive through the mountains _probably_ won’t do but that’s just because a double triple whatever the fuck CIA agent named Catalina Noruega got there first. I know that he’s doing his hardest to make us believe that everything’s fine and I only took the most essential classes on mental health at med school but I’ll be damned if _shooting his former lover_ left him totally unscarred.

So, uh, maybe I should just, you know… “So… where are we going?”

Okay, too late for second thoughts, anyway. I resist the temptation to clear my throat and force a smile instead. “I was thinking Pikes Peak. How’s that sound?”

It’s a peak, about an hour and a half away and the drive’s pretty nice. You can’t max out a bike’s capabilities because it’s a bit too winded but it makes up for that with quite beautiful scenery. He smiles back at me. “Sounds great.” Is it just me or is there something weird in his eyes? Something like… uncertainty? “What’d you get?”

Huh?

Oh, right, the bike. I shrug. “Nothing fancy, just a 2001 Ninja. Uh, 250R.” He raises his eyebrows. “What? I like to go fast but I’m a lightweight. Nothing wrong with that.”

At that, he grins and even though I can still see slight discomfort in his eyes, he seems to be a little more at ease. That would be a first. “ _I_ didn’t say anything, ma’am.” I’m about to correct him, as I usually do, and possibly add a reprimand but then I see him grin again, this time positively mischievous and I realize that he did it on purpose. What the everloving fuck? The little… “So, where is she?”

I have to admit, I needed some time to get used to Dee calling his Beemer she and talking about as her as if she’s an actual human but yeah, eventually, I managed to get over being weirded out by it. There _are_ worse things than an NCO with a soft spot for a motorcycle. I jerk my head towards a rather small sport bike sitting a few feet away from me in a parking spot, painted in a nearly blinding shade of bright blue and he raises his eyebrows again. I knit mine together. “ _What_?”

“Nice color, Captain. What’s it called, Air Force Blue?” Yeah, I wish.

And what’s with Dee being such a charmer all of a sudden? Did I miss a memo or something?

Sighing, I roll my eyes. “The guy at the rental desk called it Candy Plasma Blue.” Did he just… _snort_? “It’s a _rental_ , Dee. I didn’t _buy_ it.”

“No,” he says, “I’m sure you didn’t.” He looks as if he’d like to add something but catches himself in the last moment. Someone care to let me in on what the fuck’s going on here?

Okay, you know what, I don’t care. Instead of taking the time to see if he’ll speak up again, after all, I just give him a passable imitation of Tom’s irritated growl. “Last time I checked, we were here to _ride_ those fucking bikes, not talk about fancy-shmancy idiot names for colors.”

At that, he clearly tries to school his face back into his usual serious, sober look but fails spectacularly. Amazing how much more visible his feelings become the longer you know that guy. “Of course, ma’am. I’ll just go and get mine, ma’am. Won’t be long, ma’am.” 

He doesn’t wait for me to give him permission to leave, just walks away backwards for a few steps, giving me a casual two-finger salute and then walking over to the long-term parking sheds, pulling out his Beemer, a deep black K 1200 GT. The Beemer looks bulkier than my little Kawasaki and, from personal experience, I know that she easily tops the Kawi’s top speed by about 50 mph. I’m nearly tempted to tell Dee to go easy on me but yeah, a girl’s got her pride.

Anyway, he puts on his helmet and gets the Beemer running and I follow suit. Seeing him carefully steer his machine out of the parking lot and towards the gate, I automatically have to think back to the first – and, hopefully, last – time I sat on that bike, behind him, with my arms around his waist, hanging onto him as he drove us to Tom’s house. I remember the feel of his biker jacket against my hands, the muscles of his back playing against my chest under that leather and the damn memory is so strong that I nearly slip with the Kawi on the asphalt at the last gate stop. Goddammit, get a fucking grip on yourself, Greenspan.

Shaking my head a little to get rid of those thoughts, I follow him through that last gate, onto Norad Road down to Vietnam Veterans Memorial Highway, all along the 24 through West Colorado Springs and Manitou Springs, until we get to the entrance to Waldo Canyon and I see him flashing his blinkers at the first available picnic area overseeing the canyon. Mh. Good thinking, Sergeant.

We both pull into the nearest parking lot and he switches off his engine and then takes off his helmet and I really wish he wouldn’t look so fucking good in his slightly old-fashioned, all black leather bike gear. You know, back down at the Mountain, it was pretty easy ignoring the hotness that is Simon DeLisle in black leather, being so close to tightly regulated military space but right here… I force myself not to swallow visibly before taking off my helmet and following him over to the empty picnic table he’s leaning against, looking at the canyon expanding in front of him.

I walk up to him, leaning next to him against the table and see him look expectantly at me, something strangely akin to a _smile_ clearly tugging at the corners of his mouth, “So how does it feel, being back in the saddle?”

Well. I grin at him. “Pretty good, actually. Didn’t even know I missed it until I tried it.”

He nods. “Glad to hear that. And glad you gave it a try, too.”

Yeah, uh, me, too. Otherwise, who knows if I’d ever gotten to enjoy looking at you in that _damn black leather_ again. Not that this is something I could say here. Or anywhere else. So I settle at, “But thanks for going easy on me, Dee.”

As if _that_ is any better than telling him how much I appreciate him wearing his bike gear. Way to go, Captain Greenspan.

Thank God he has the good grace not to blush, just looks away for a highly awkward moment, before giving me a half-smile looking slightly uncomfortable. “Nah, just went easy on the Kawi. Pretty sure you could handle going faster with a different bike.”

Aw, that is such a _nice_ think to say, Dee! “Don’t make blush, Sergeant.”

That makes him break out into a small, but genuine grin, and it’s ridiculous how relieved I am to see that he gradually seems to lose some of that restraint he’s always showing around me. Along with, you know, feeling guilty for letting myself be distracted enough by that _fucking black leather_ to be relieved about Dee of all people losing a bit of restraint in the first place. “Wouldn’t dare dream of it, ma’am.”

“Uh-huh,” I reply, giving him one of those _looks_ usually reserved for Tom whenever he thinks he can get away with trying to bullshit me, “less talking, more driving.” And I’m not only saying that to get rid of that stupid tension I feel crawling all over my skin whenever I’m as close to him as I’m right now. And here I thought bike gear was thick enough to keep it out. Silly me.

“Yes, ma’am.” Asshole. Did I mention that before? _Ass_ hole.

Anyway. He mounts up and I follow – you wouldn’t know I’m the officer in this scenario, would you? – back on the road and up to Cascade, trees and rocks whizzing by next to the road. I’d never admit it but I kind of wish I’d gotten over myself and asked the rental guy to give me something that could go a _little_ faster than the Kawi’s 100 mph and had a least a _bit_ more horsepower under its hood.

It’s pretty obvious even to me that Dee keeps the lid tight on the Beemer’s capabilities and I feel a little sorry for him. I’d never have guessed it until now but I’m pretty sure he didn’t buy himself a bike that can go 150mph and packs 130 HP under its hood just because it looked pretty – which, just for the record, it doesn’t. No, Master Sergeant Simon DeLisle is a speed freak of the first water, trust me on this.

So we’re on our merry way up the mountain, and just when I wonder if I shouldn’t have brought radios for us after all, he pulls over again, into a small scenic lookout bay overlooking Crystal Creek Reservoir and God, am I glad about that. I’m more out of shape than I thought. Purely counting driving a motorcycle, of course.

As we pull into the bay, I have a bit of a hard time getting the Kawi to stay steady and not fall over, burying me beneath her and I _really_ hope he didn’t see my knees buckling just the tiniest bit after dismounting. Shit, shit, shit.

At least the scenery is stunning.

Seriously, not joking. I’ve been living in The Springs for about a year now and even though I’d been constantly planning on exploring its surroundings – first with my old roomie, then with Maureen – all I got to see of it was everything we saw during our rescue op for Dee. And yeah, let’s not think about _that_ now. Or ever again.

He’s standing at the edge of a ledge as I walk up to him and half turns around when he hears me coming up behind me, giving me a ghost of a smile that just somehow… stops my brain for a second or two. I blink and resist the urge to shake my head to get rid of the cotton candy fuzz my brain just turned into and the hammering of my heart that pretty sure has nothing to do with the bike ride up here, as much as I wish it had.

It wasn’t even an extraordinary grin, just a small smile, flashing for maybe two or three seconds before he turned back towards the lake but something in that – the unguardness, maybe – slammed right into me.

Asking him to come on that stupid bike ride with me was definitely the most stupid idea I _ever_ had.

My heart still doing stupid things, I step beside him, joining him in looking out at that damn lake, suddenly not the least bit interested in the scenery, anymore. Stupid, _stupid_ Spring and stupid sun and stupid lake. Stupid _Laura_. “How you feeling? Still up for doing the whole nine yards?”

Thank God for stupid questions.

I huff. “Hell yeah, Sergeant. Peak’s still waiting for us.”

He raises his eyebrows, and thank God it’s not another one of those unguarded little smiles he suddenly seems to have discovered. Not sure if I’d survived one of those up close and personal. “And here I thought you’d appreciate some nice landscape more than that.”

I grimace, hoping it distracts from every sign of nervousness I might show right now. “Yes, yes, very nice. Lake, trees, sky, very pretty. Now, you wanna go up that mountain or not?”

It makes him rolls his eyes and for the hundredth time today, I curse my spontaneous, unthinking side. I realize that I have never seen him as private as this and I wish I’d never gotten to see it. It’s doing bad things to my head and my heart and everything I could keep at bay until now is pushing against my inner barriers with too much force.

“Very well, let’s get into gear then. You wanna lead for a change?” Oh God, _stop_ being so damn courteous and accommodating.

I nod, forgoing another “Hell, yeah!” and instead getting the Kawi back on the road again. Trying not to feel too self-conscious, I take the twists and turns on the way up to the Peak, deciding, in the spur of a moment, to take the rest of the way in one big forty-minute ride. I’m _pretty_ sure I’m really gonna regret that tomorrow, but damn, I didn’t pay half a fortune to rent that fucking bike to stop every few miles to admire some scenery or other.

Also, forty minutes of sharp concentration on not getting myself killed one way or the other serves really lovely to keep my mind off Dee and his sudden outbursts of nearly Tom like charm. But yeah, every ride has to come to an end and faster than I would have liked, we reach the summit. Pulling into the parking lot of the top station, I very briefly consider turning right around and go down that mountain again – at least that would get me out of the very embarrassing fact that I probably should have considered several weeks of specialized work-out before even _thinking_ about attempting this ride – but then decide to face the result head on.

But first, let’s admire the ease with which Dee dismounts from that monster of a bike he calls his. For a guy his size – six feet, after all – his moves are pretty lithe and smooth, in everything he does. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even do it consciously and I’m _pretty_ sure that it’s some leftover hush hush secret agency training thing but it’s honestly doing wonders to his attractiveness as a guy. And I’m _not_ saying that because of the thin air up here, fourteen thousand feet above sea level.

Anyway, time to own up. I can always blame shaky legs on my last altitude training session having been… _some_ time ago – too long, as I just now realize, walking up to where Dee is standing – so there’s no way out of this now. And really, aside from puffing a little too much when reaching Dee, I hopefully don’t look too bad.

Mr. Special Forces himself, of course, looks like he just had a very refreshing nap and is now strolling through absolutely flat, sea-level gardens or something. God, I hate it when they don’t even break a sweat while _normal_ people have difficulties breathing. And I hate it even more that he _clearly_ looks like he’s gonna ask me if I’m okay any time now. I glare at him. “Don’t even think about asking, Sergeant.”

Of course, a simple, “Yes, ma’am,” is all he replies, probably having had anticipated my reaction a million years ago. We _have_ been working together for quite a while now. Which is why I’m pretty sure I can detect microscopic hints of a smile in Dee’s face. Damn the man.

As we’re walking up to the cog railroad top station, we’re both silent and I’m starting to wonder at the obvious change from his behavior down on the road. So, yeah, the way he’s behaving right now is _much_ more in-character for him but the fact that he’s been a lot more open and charming down there on the road wasn’t the only thing gaining my attention. It’s the transition back to the self he usually shows that has me take notice.

The thing is, I didn’t actually mind that he smiled a bit more often down there, that he was eloquent, that he actually said a lot more than usually in the first place because that could easily be chalked up to being in a different environment – after all, he does open up a little more every time we’re at Tom’s house, too and he did seem a little more relaxed at our impromptu get-together last Christmas – but for some reason it pinged back on my radar that he’s so close-lipped all of a sudden now.

I give him a little side-eye glance and he stoically glances right ahead towards the edge of the summit where we’re headed but I’m _positive_ that he has registered my interest in him. Wouldn’t have survived for so long in his job if he didn’t know how to do that kind of thing.

Stopping at the edge, we both look out in the direction of The Springs – I’m _not_ winded after such a short walk, I _swear_ I’m not – which looks sprawled out in the valley in the distance and something deep down inside of me makes the decision to blurt out, “Okay, Dee, _what_ is it?”

For a moment, it looks as if he knows _exactly_ what I’m talking about but then he actually has to guts to try and put on a clueless front. “Ma’am?”

I roll my eyes. “Nuh-uh, Dee. You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about. So spill it.”

He shakes his head. “I’d rather not. I…”

Yeah, well, fuck it. I plop myself down at the edge, legs stretched out in front of me. Thank God I was never afraid of heights. This would have looked even more undignified as it does now. I squint up at him. “Rather nice day, wouldn’t you say? So, I think I’ll be sitting around here for a while. For example as long as you think you can take me for a fool. How’s that sound?”

I can see it. He’s _this_ close to muttering something about bossy women doctors. Instead, he _actually_ tries to go the road of, “Ma’am, it’s uh obvious that you’re not accustomed to this altitude and I think it would probably better if we were to…”

What a load of bullshit. Is he really trying to sell a _doctor_ – a still very fit and _healthy_ doctor – that altitude sickness crap? I stare at him, like I used to stare at Tom when I really wanted him to stop being an idiot. “Sit _down_ , Sergeant.”

He clears his throat. “Yes, ma’am.”

With that, he sits down, next to me, with just the right amount of distance between us that accidentally touching is pretty hard to achieve, without making it look like he’s trying to stay the hell away from me. I really do think Tom’s not giving him enough credit.

For a long time, neither of us says anything and it’s a good thing that I’m wearing bike gear or I would have frozen something off by the time he finally says, almost too quiet to hear above the wind, “You, uh, you might have wondered about my behavior on the way here and uh, if I have offended you in any…”

“You didn’t.” It’s true, he didn’t. I rather liked that side of him, even though it kind of weirded me out. It was like getting a glimpse of the guy he probably could have been if he hadn’t been recruited for the CIA. If he hadn’t had to assassinate people for a living, a long time ago. “You just… confused me.”

That makes him smile a little rueful half-smile, one of the corners of his mouth drawn up, making him look ten years younger than his 37. “Guess I did, huh?” He takes a deep breath then, turning back to looking at The Springs in the distance and I kind of wish he hadn’t. I’d have liked to see his face when he continues, “ I wasn’t always like… _this_ , you know.”

It is a little scary at how well my theory – that this almost ladykiller charmer side of him could have been him, if he’d never been recruited by the CIA – fits. I consider saying something to that effect but he takes up the reins again. “I was 22 when they pulled me into the Agency, in 1989.” Sometimes, I forget that he was born ten years before me, that he enlisted five years before the Cold War ended. Sometimes, I forget that he’s a completely different generation of soldier. Sometimes, I think I really shouldn’t.

He keeps talking and I don’t interrupt him. “I didn’t know why they wanted me, back then. I’d just made Sergeant below-the-zone in 3E8X1, nowhere even _close_ to 1N” – meaning he was in EOD, not Intelligence and promoted six months earlier to Sergeant than usual – “and suddenly, it’s Langley instead of Spangdahlem and I’m learning a _lot_ of stuff I always thought was illegal.”

I frown, can’t keep from interrupting now. “Didn’t you have _any_ say against that happening to you?”

He shrugs. “It was the Eighties, and in September 1989, they were still thinking that the Iron Curtain would bet there for a thousand years. Don’t tell anyone, but Berlin took _everyone_ at the Agency by surprise.” There it is again, that little half-smile or maybe even smirk that makes him look so much younger. I wish he wouldn’t do that. “Anyway, by the time the Cold War was over I was… I was in too deep to just walk away.”

For a moment, I consider asking what he means by “in too deep” but a look at his face – closed off and telling me I won’t learn anything about that today – tells me to leave it be. Instead I give him a non-committal, “So…”

“So I stayed on.” Mhm. And… “And met Catalina Noruega.”

Right. Suddenly, I wish he _wouldn’t_ have decided to be so open with me, of all people. “Dee, look, you don’t have to…”

“1990, five days after my 24th birthday. She was a SIGINT specialist, a Senior Airman on her way to Sergeant when they pulled her in and she never minded it.” Of course she didn’t. Everything I saw and heard of Catalina Noruega _screamed_ “shady secret operative and loving it” at me. Is it bad that I don’t even _want_ to find anything positive to say about her? “We were supposed to be partners, and we hit it off right away.”

Somehow, I still can’t reconcile calm, quiet late-thirties Dee with charming mid-twenties Dee. I clear my throat. “When you say you “hit it off right away”…”

“I meant that we broke CIA non-frat regs about a month after being introduced to each other, yes.” Aw, if I didn’t know it better, I’d say that he’s _this_ close to blushing embarrassedly. As well he should. Sleeping with a fellow operative, seriously. “She was… She was something else.” Nuh-uh, you’re _not_ going to tell me what a great person… “She was tough, didn’t take crap from anybody. They’d tell her “No, you can’t do that, female operatives aren’t allowed to do that.” and she’d just roll her eyes and tell them “Watch me.” and go ahead anyway. She’d excel, just to show them that she could, _every damn time_.”

Yeah, well, sounds like she was a real pain in the ass, one of those girls who can’t take no for an answer and always need to throw into everyone’s face just _how_ capable they are.

Sounds a lot like me, actually.

“And she liked me. Went for directly for what she wanted, and that was me.” He makes a face, still looking embarrassed about rousing the interest of a woman like Catalina Noruega. “Hooking up just seemed… the most logical consequence.”

I’m waiting for him to tell me that they were both young, that it was all no strings attached, no emotions involved, just scratching some itch people on the mid-twenties seem to have perpetually. But all he does is look down at his gloved hands, knotted tightly together and saying so quietly that the wind nearly carries away the words before I can hear them, “I loved her, Laura. For a long time, I _loved_ her.”

You know, when I asked him to come on a bike ride with me, I’d kind of just wanted to take his mind off shooting an ex-girlfriend in the head, just have a good time for a couple hours before it was back to military protocol and strict rules for officers and enlisted men. When I asked him on a bike ride with me, I _never_ anticipated it could end with more questions than I could ever answer and a kind of pain no amount of morphine could inject away.

I take a deep breath, not sure what I’m going to say but knowing that I need to say _something_ when he beats me to it and scrambles back to his feet, walking away and I don’t waste time waiting and follow him. Like hell he’s gonna walk away from me after telling me something like _that_. Like fucking _hell_.

Of course that’s the moment the altitude starts messing with me and for a few seconds, it looks as if I have to let him go anyway because a wave of dizziness crashes over me and I need a moment to steady myself. Damn Special Forces trained Dee of course probably hasn’t even noticed yet that the air is just a _little_ bit thinner than down below.

But yeah, I promised myself I wouldn’t let him walk away and I intend to keep that promise, so I take the risk and jog after him, mentally noting down to brush up on altitude training as soon as I can. It really takes every ounce of self-control that I don’t have to pant when I reach him and manage to bark, “You’re _not_ gonna walk away from me like that, Dee. No way.”

He looks at me, confusion in his eyes and for a moment, I’m almost sorry I treated him like that. But I just had a feeling that if I let him go now, he’d never come back. To the team. To me. He shakes his head. “Laura, I’m sorry but I really need to…”

“Talk about it. You really fucking need to talk about it.” There, I said it. And, curiously, from the slightly irritated look in his eyes, I’m probably not the first person to tell him that. Huh.

I can see that he’s just this close to replying with something really out of line or maybe something really desperate. I’m prepared for responding either way, for trying not to be too offended with whatever he’s going to say when he runs a hand through his hair, turning his head around as if he’s a caged animal looking desperately for a way to escape and says, his voice strangely raspy, “God, I have no idea why I even told you all that. 

Huh, weird. “I do.” And suddenly we’re staring at each other. I can see him pursing his lips, eyes darting between mine and my lips and maybe it’s that damn thin air up here or the exhilaration of the bike ride or whatever but in this moment, I have the _worst_ idea I _ever_ had. And, stupid girl that I am, I don’t forget about it right here and now. Instead, I exclaim pretty much unnerved, “Oh for _God_ ’s sake!” and kiss Master Sergeant Simon DeLisle full on his lips.

Yep, I was right. This _was_ a bad idea. And you wanna know why? Because I damn well know I should be stopping – after all, my timing _really_ sucks – but God, I can’t. It’s… it’s _good_. Dee definitely knows how to kiss a girl and he knows how to kiss _me_ and I want him to continue it, continue… “Fucking _hell_.”

Stupid, _stupid_ telephone. And stupid, _stupid_ habit of keeping it always with me. Can’t it just _stop_ ringing? “Ma’am? You uh should probably get that.”

No shit, Sherlock.

I give him a glare while yanking out the damn phone – why is it even _working_ up here? – and staring at the display. Tom. Of all people. Just my fucking luck. I resist the temptation to take a few steps away from Dee and answer my phone. “What is it?”

“Whoa, someone really shit in your cheerios this morning, didn’t they?” Yeah, just what I needed.

I try to tone it down a bit. “Look, I’m kind of busy right now and…”

“Doing what? Far as I know, you’re on a day off.” Right. A day off that I requested because I wanted to rent a bike and go up a damn peak with _our damn resident NCO_.

Again, it really takes every ounce of control not to huff and not to look at him. “Tom? Are you going somewhere with this or is this just a regular old call meant to annoy me because you’re bored?”

Dee did _not_ just hide a very amused grin. And I did _not_ just hear him snort. “Aw, you wound me, Greenspan. When have I ever…” I clear my throat very audibly. And menacingly. “Yeah, uh, whatever. Hey, listen, since you weren’t at the SGC today I guess neither Reece nor Dee got to tell you that we’re invited.”

I have to be honest. Just right now, when he mentioned Dee, I did feel a stab of guilt at not telling him that Dee’s right here with me. But yeah, it’s not a really big stab. “Invited, Tom?”

“Yeah, uh, Lorne remembered that he still owes us as a BBQ and _incidentally_ , he’s throwing one tonight, so we’re invited. 1900, at his place.” Ah. Huh. Okay. _Don’t_ break out into hysterical laughter now. A BBQ. Tonight. Perfect. Just perfect. A team night with Lorne’s team, Tom, Dee, Maureen… just _perfect_.

Trying not to think about just how _many_ things could go wrong during just one BBQ evening, I have some difficulties keeping my voice straight when I reply, “Sure, gonna be there. And uh, no, you don’t need to pick any of us up.”

“Good,” he says and I can hear suspicion creeping into his voice. That’s going absolutely smooth, isn’t it? “See you there.”

And with that, he hangs up and boy, am I glad about that. I look at Dee, my eyebrows raised. “BBQ at Major Lorne’s?”

He shrugs, rubs his neck. “Sorry, I just kind of… forgot to tell you about it.”

At least he didn’t add “ma’am” and I throw him another look, hoping to gauge just about _any_ reaction to my really ill timed kiss.

Of course, I get nothing. “Anyway, I guess we should head back. I need to return the bike and uh…”

“Separate arrivals would be a smart maneuver. Ma’am.” _Fuck_. For a moment, I kind of hoped he was teasing with the ma’am but yeah, no, that NCO totally meant it. That’s how he wants to play this. Never mention that kiss again.

 _Great_.

And the worst, the absolute _worst_ , thing about this is that he’s _right_. It may have been a really, really, _really_ good kiss and I may want to repeat the experience – and, if I’m not mistaken, he wouldn’t mind it, either – but neither of us is in a position to do so. Plus, you know, there’s still that issue of Dee recently having had to off his ex-girlfriend. This is so bad, it even tops my last relationship and let’s never talk about _that_ one. Let’s just say that I really am the queen of messed up relationships.

“Yeah, Sergeant. Smart idea. Let’s just… get going.” He nods and I can see the regret in his eyes and I wish I could just undo all the damage I did to the both of us with one measly little kiss _and_ with then deciding to go along and pretend it never happened but… I’ve never been one to back down from a decision once made. And anyway, it’s better this way, before anything even worse happens. Isn’t it?


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo, I'm done! \o/ After *mumbles* months! But don't worry, I already started a sequel for which I actually consulted that theoretical physics guy that I know, so get ready for some err _stuff_ (as Tom likes to call it. He's an idiot. Just ask him about VPN tunnels and back doors and then watch him rant for a few days or so). Anyway... here we go!

** Four **

_Reece_

Alright, I probably shouldn’t have left Laura’s fancy new GPS device at home when I took the car to base this morning. But then again, how should _I_ have known that fancy would take Majors Moore and Lorne and lead to me having to navigate through a neighborhood I have never been to, to attend a fucking barbecue.

According to the internet route finder I consulted _and_ the Major’s _kind_ of vague directions he gave me before he made off with the words, “ _Try_ not to work overtime _again_ , Kid,” three hours ago, it should have taken me a mere sixteen minutes to get to Major Lorne’s house. I’ve been cruising this damn neighborhood for _twenty_. God _dammit_.

I probably shouldn’t have put in those three hours overtime, either.

But seriously, there’s a PFT coming up next month and I haven’t been running as much as I should have, so I just put in an hour in the workout room, especially on the treadmill and well, when one Dr. Daniel Jackson pulls a department staff meeting out of his ass at 1700, you don’t say “No, sir, Dr. Daniel Jackson, sir, I have a barbecue to attend, sir, sorry, sir!” Especially if it’s about that Lost City thing and a call for qualified personnel to volunteer for an expedition of unknown outcome.

Qualified, in this case, meaning no dependents, a relevant field of study, able to handle yourself in a crisis, reasonably physically fit, spotless recent psych evals and – not an absolute requirement but really nice to have, apparently – something called an ATA gene expression in our DNA. Everything that uh applies to me, even the freaky gene thing. Even the _psych eval_ thing, as I learned just yesterday. Could be pretty much of a career move, too.

Okay, I guess I should just really concentrate on finding _that damn house_.

Sighing, I stop at an intersection that looks like… Oxford and Canis, whatever that means, and bend over towards the passenger seat, pulling open the glove compartment and groping around aimlessly… ah, _there_ it is. Goddamn map of goddamn Colorado Springs. Aw, shit, ever since my little outburst at the Major, I do seem to have wholly embraced that special Marine ability to cuss everything and everyone at any inopportune moment. Just fucking great.

Anyway, back to the problem at hand: land navigation. I’m actually pretty good at this, have always been, even back at OCS. So it’s twice as embarrassing that I seem to be unable to figure out how to get to _one measly_ … oh, huh, there it is. And I’m not even that far away from it. I try not to sigh again, and instead start the car up to drive up to Major Lorne’s house, somewhere between Cheyenne Boulevard and West Cheyenne Road. At least I’m getting _somewhere_ now. Shoulda remembered that damn map earlier. Let’s just never talk of this again.

And yeah, five minutes later, I’m standing in front of what is hopefully Major Lorne’s house – a nice little cottage, probably 1920s or 1930s, from what I can see – and yeah, let’s just get it over with, huh? Squaring my shoulders, I press the door bell and two or three minutes later, the garden gate opens, revealing a friendly smiling Major Lorne in civvies.

“Oh, hey, Lieutenant. Nice to see you. Come on in.” I try to smile back at him, getting stuck between uncomfortably squirming and a grin.

It actually takes me five steps to remember the bag I’m carrying. I clear my throat and he stops. With something that hopefully looks like an apologetic smile, I hold up the bag. “I uh brought dessert, sir. _Not_ homemade, sorry.”

He replies with another little smile and, “Don’t worry, it’s not a punishable offense. Come on, the rest is waiting out back.”

Sometimes, I secretly wish I’d ended up in Major Lorne’s team. Pretty sure I wouldn’t have been annoyed, furious or afraid even half as many times as I have been since I ended up in a certain Major Moore’s team.

Then again, I probably would have had to endure a lot more awkward encounters like the one that’s probably waiting for me in Major Lorne’s backyard. After all, a certain Peter Forsberg is _also_ part of Major Lorne’s team.

Not that I was lying to Dee or anything – Peter and I _did_ part on friendly terms alright – but… it’s still weird seeing him. We didn’t ever get past first base in the five months we’d been dating… okay, that’s a lie, we _did_ get past first base but that was _once_ and I never even told Laura about it. It happened when she was back home in Maine with the Major in March and uh, yeah, that was kinda why we decided to call it quits, too.

For some _really_ weird reason, Peter claimed I gave him the feeling that I “wasn’t really thinking of him” when we’d _just_ gotten rid of most of our clothes in between making out like teenagers on the way to my room. He never did explain to me who else he thought I was thinking of, so seriously, no idea how he got that feeling.

Anyway, we both went our ways shortly after that and ever since then, things have been a little… _weird_ with Peter. Not tense or uncomfortable, just awkward. Especially whenever the Major’s in the same room. Never really got to figure out why the hell that is but yeah, just another factor of why I really should just have faked some malady or other to get out of this whole shebang.

 _But_ it’s too late for that now so I buck up and follow Major Lorne into his backyard. It’s a nice backyard, at least, pretty well cared for – where _does_ Lorne take the time to do that, anyway? – and, yep, there they are. Captain Winslow, Lieutenant Morales – Strathen’s replacement, and it’s kinda comforting to know that since last November, there’s at least one member of the SGC who’s even newer than I am – Peter… and the Major. No Laura. No Dee. What…

“Didn’t I tell you _not_ to work overtime again, Kid?” God, I wish he wouldn’t keep doing that. I _think_ I got used to him calling me that in front of the team but I really _hate_ it when he does it in front of other people, other _officers_. And what’s with that grin in Peter’s direc… oh God, what if calling me Kid in front of Major Lorne’s team is some kind of… _marking his territory_?

Ew, I hope not. 

I resist an irritated sigh and clear my throat instead. “Sorry, sir. Impromptu department wide meeting.” No use in telling him how _hopelessly_ I got lost. Most of that was his fault, anyway.

“About _what_?” I seriously hope for him that he’s not trying to make me feel uncomfortable _on purpose_.

Sitting down, I’m briefly debating to tell him to go fuck himself since he has _zero_ business in departmental matters but then Major Lorne hands me an open beer and I decide to be nice. For the time being. I give Lorne a short grateful smile and then take a short swig before replying, “Lost City, sir.”

Winslow raises an eyebrow. “Atlantis expedition?”

I give him a nod. “Yep.” I should have added a “sir”, right? But then again, Winslow’s always been a pretty relaxed guy – at least _some_ Air Force officers do live up to the stereotype, thank God – so he just looks at me inquiringly. “Dr. Jackson offered us the chance of a lifetime.”

It makes the Major snort and share a look of faintly cynical amusement with Major Lorne. “Anyone stupid enough to volunteer?”

This is _not_ a good time to tell him that _if_ I _were_ volunteering I’d almost be _guaranteed_ a place among the expedition and that I uh haven’t rejected the idea yet, right?

Right.

I shrug. “Two guys from Archaeology said they would think about it.” That makes the guys snort again and seriously, what is it with their disdain for civilian scientists? Idiots. I try not to look too petulant when I add, “Did Command give you the talk yet?”

This time it’s Peter who speaks up and stupid idiot can’t even look me in the eye. “They did.” I give him the same look Winslow gave me. He _does_ stick out his tongue at me. Immature idiot. “Twenty Marines, eight Airmen and one of the Russian exchange officers volunteered.”

 _Great_.

And of course now they’re all looking at me. I try to appear clueless. “… _what_?”

Major Lorne, still looking like he needs every ounce of self-control not to grin at me full force, finally deigns to answer. “You _are_ a Marine, Lieutenant.”

Maybe I wouldn’t have been better off with him as my team leader, after all.

Just as I’m about to answer and probably get myself into serious scrapes for insolence, the doorbell rings again and yeah, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a least a _little_ bit relieved and grateful for the interruption.

Lorne leaves again, doing that little clenching his jaw thing he sometimes does to look apologetic and throwing something sounding suspiciously like “Give the Lieutenant a break, Tom!” over his shoulder. As if I’d need _that_.

“So, Kid…” Whatever he’s about to say, it’s _gotta_ be some bullshit or other. So, naturally, my only defense mechanism is stalling.

“Sir?” I try my best to look innocent and ignore the other three officers at the table who are doing _their_ best to appear _absolutely_ uninterested in the conversation.

He gives me a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, Kid. So you and Lieutenant Forsberg here…”

Seriously?

 _Seriously_?

I mirror his stupid grin. “No, sir.”

That takes him aback. Or makes him look like it did, anyway. “No, sir?”

I can’t believe he wants to play that game, most probably just to pass time until the newest visitor makes it into the backyard. Sometimes, I really wonder how Laura managed to put up with him for practically all her life. I decide not to play along this time. I’m not his fucking nanny. “No. Sir. Now, if you’d _please_ refrain from making any remarks pertaining to my or any other officer’s private li…”

“I _said_ , give. The Lieutenant. A break.” Okay, I guess I did need that. “And look who I brought.” Major Evan Lorne, master extraordinaire at diffusing tense situations. Then again, from everything that Laura told me about the Academy, he probably had to play referee between the Major and the third member of the Golden Trio of ’94 on a pretty regular basis.

And _look_ who he brought. Laura and Dee. I’m about to smile at Laura, relieved that she finally made it here but the _look_ she throws keeps me from it pretty effectively. And… what’s with that biker stuff?

“Don’t ask.” O- _kay_. “Seriously, Tom, _don’t_ ask.” Oh, hey, since that apparently just pertains to the Major… “Actually, none of you. _None_ of you ask.”

Whoa, whatever happened at wherever she decided to take Dee, it must have been something big. And ugly. And _laughing_ really shouldn’t be our reaction, and yet, both Majors are doing it. Under their breaths, granted, but yeah, neither Dee nor Laura are blind. _Idiots_.

Naturally, the one catching himself first is Major Lorne, rubbing his neck and trying very hard not to grin. “You, uh, want to… freshen up or something?”

 _Great_ thing to say to someone looking like they’re ready to murder anyone _looking_ at them the wrong way. Right. Time for an intervention to save those Majors’ fucking _lives_. I clear my throat. “Oh, uh, hey, Laura, I uh… need to show you something.”

Of course the only thing she’s doing is looking at me with murder in her eyes and a big fat “What the _fuck_ , Maureen?” plastered all over her entire body language. At least Dee looks like he just caught on my meaning. And _desperately_ wants to go with you. Sorry, Sergeant, you’re on your own with this. I can only rescue one this time.

“You know, that uh _thing_ we were talking about?” She looks at me, still cluel… yep, you can see the exact moment it registers with her what I’m trying to do here.

She blinks, shakes her head. “Yes, of course, right, that thing. Evan, can we…”

“Sure, knock yourself out.” Stupid Major Lorne still looking so damn amused. I hope one day _someone_ will manage to wipe that off his face. I _really_ wouldn’t have been better off with his team.

But that day is not going to be today, since now that Laura caught on, she nearly drags me out of my seat and stomps up the stairs to Major Lorne’s back porch and then into his house through the back door. It’s, uh, a nice house and… “Huh, where’s that Dana girl?” Who? “Evan’s latest girlf… never mind.”

Mhm, keep trying to distract me because your current attempts are _not working_. Or, on second thought, _don’t_ keep trying because the Major tried my patience enough for today. I manage not to sigh before I give her a deadpan look. “Laura?”

She looks up from whatever she was just doing – looked suspiciously like trying to evade my eyes at any cost – and replies, a little absentmindedly. “What?”

Does she really think I’m _that_ dumb? “What yourself. Or rather, what’s going on with you?”

She looks at me again, at first blinking as if she didn’t understand a word of what I just said and then… oh God, is she _blushing_? Suddenly, I’m almost sorry I asked. I… “Something… happened.”

Could you be _any_ more vague? “Something with Dee?”

“Yeah, kind of.” It’s not _exactly_ getting better. “Look, Maureen…”

Nuh-uh. If I let her get away with it now, she’ll _never_ tell me. “I know your personal life is none of my concern but if it’s something to do with _Dee_ , it actually concerns the _team_. So, don’t you think…”

“Not _now_ , okay.” Okay. I… seem to have hit a nerve? That wasn’t absentminded or embarrassed anymore, that was bordering on urgent. And kind of hostile? “We’ll talk about it, just not here. I can’t… we’ll talk about it. I promise.”

Not so sure about that. I mean, Laura keeps her promises, no question about that. It’s just that… I’m not even sure if I really want to hear it, and I have a feeling that she might know me well enough to know or at least suspect that and I’m kind of afraid that she’ll want to oblige me, if only to get out of talking about whatever happened between her and Dee. But yeah, I won’t get anything out of her _now_ , anyway, so I leave it at, “It’s alright, whatever you…”

“He kissed me.” What? “Okay, that was a lie, I kissed _him_.” What the _hell_? “But he kissed me back.” I can’t even. “And then Tom called and I’m not sure if that was exceptionally good or exceptionally bad timing.”

All I can do, for a moment, is staring at her, slowly blinking once, twice, before I burst out, “Laura, what the _hell_?”

That seems to stop her in her uncharacteristic rambling and she opens her mouth, just to close it again without saying anything. It seems to take her a minute to think about _something_ to reply to me but just as she opens her mouth to hopefully say something along the lines of “Haha, just kidding, don’t worry, I didn’t totally mess up this team’s dynamics,” the door behind her opens and the Major pokes his head into the room, with the words, “Hey, girls, Lorne’s about to tell us how he got ditched by post-it a couple days ago and…” Uh-oh. “Wait, what’s going on here?”

Laura blinks at me and did she just mouth “Help!”? Oh hell, the things I do for my friends. I try not to roll my eyes and address the Major. “Nothing, sir, everything fine. We just had to clear up some apartment stuff. 

He doesn’t look too convinced and for a moment it looks as if we’re screwed and he’ll poke around further but then apparently _something_ in my look – I tried to go for a mix between unconcerned and inquiring – must have made him reconsider and he just frowns for a moment before saying, “Yeah, okay, whatever. Just hurry up, he’s getting to the good part.”

With that, he’s out the door again and I can’t believe that Laura just made an actual relieved sigh and even adds, “God, thanks, I really owe you one.”

I try not to look to irritated and simply tell her, “Yeah. And don’t expect me not to ask you for _every damn detail_ as soon as we’re back home.”

At that, she only rolls her eyes but then adds, “Fair enough,” and follows me back to the table in Major Lorne’s backyard where we arrive just at the moment when Lorne says, “And that’s how I found a post-it on my kitchen counter that said “Look, since you’re never here anyway and your weird superiors won’t let me call you and my e-mails always get bounced back, here’s the thing: I’m breaking up with you. Deal with it.”.” and the guys answer it with a round of appropriately pained groans – with _just_ the right amount of hinted schadenfreude, those assholes – and pitying noises.

Laura, seemingly recovered – I did see the oh so furtive glances both you and Dee keep throwing each other – sits down with a semi-sympathetic look on her face, saying, “Ah, so that’s why Dana’s not here. Could be worse, really.”

“Her name, _Captain Greenspan_ , is _Deana_ and thank you very much for the note of sympathy,” Lorne retorts and yeah, that guy tries very hard to look his usual unflappable self when I can see clear traces of how that break-up must have caused more than just mild annoyance. God, why do they all still think they’re subtle and stoic when really, they’re all like open linguistics textbooks?

Laura, for her part, only snorts and then proceeds to tell him, “Don’t worry, _Major Lorne_ , I’m pretty sure that someday, even _you_ will find the right girl to ride into the sunset with.” Then she adds, under her breath, “Thank _God_ that wasn’t Dana.”

It prompts a bit of outrage from Lorne and stupid one-liners from the rest of his team and the Major actually nearly snorting his beer across the table and then Lorne decides that it’s time for food and well, finally, we’re getting somewhere on this evening and so I just lean back and enjoy the banter and mocking and try very hard not to think about the one-way trip to another galaxy that could be the chance of a lifetime that I was offered today. I don’t want it anyway, do I?

Do I?


End file.
